Brandy Tasting
by Hot elf
Summary: Zevran teaches his Warden how to properly appreciate a fine Antivan brandy, but she has some ideas of her own... Zevran & F!Cousland from 'Cats on the Prowl' . Rated M for spirits and more.


**Brandy tasting**

Zevran stretched languorously on the big four-poster bed. It was their fourth night at Castle Redcliffe. Four nights ago he had first made love to the Warden, to his beautiful Catalina. Since then, she had proven an eager pupil, only too ready to learn how to please him, to find out what her own body was capable of. It had turned out to be a hugely pleasurable experience. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so fascinated by a woman.

Cat was sitting on the rug near the fireplace, unwrapping the presents they had been given by the Arl and his family, the look on her face by turns pleased, disgusted and comically amused. Realizing he was watching her, she looked up and smiled, then walked over to him, a delicate glass bottle in her hands. "Do you want this? I'm not interested in getting drunk." He was about to decline when he realized what exactly she was offering him. "Catalina! That's Antivan brandy! It's not for _getting drunk_!"

She looked at him in confusion as he eagerly studied the label. "35 years old! Brasca! This is a very fine gift!"

His excited face puzzled her. "What's so special about it?" she inquired.

Zevran sighed deeply. "What isn't? Ahhhh, my sweet, you have to taste it to believe it." He carefully opened the bottle with the help of his dagger, breathing in the aroma as he did so, then poured her a glass of the rich amber liquid.

When he offered it to her, she took a quick sip and made a face. "Really, Zev, I don't like strong spirits."

He groaned in exasperation. "No, no, my sweet, you're doing it all wrong!"

He took the glass from her hands and demonstrated. "You see, bella, first of all you look at it, swirl it a little, take in the colour, the play of the light, see what it reminds you of..."

Her face was curious as she tentatively took the glass in her hand, holding it up to the flame of the single candle burning at their bedside. "Your eyes," she breathed, her voice dreamy. "It's the exact colour of your eyes."

He chuckled appreciatively. "I can see you're learning already. Now, my beautiful, you breathe in the scent, the aroma. Tell me, what does it smell like to you?"

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. "Embers, wood-smoke... and a hint of pine resin," she whispered. "It makes me think of the forest near Highever, on a bright spring morning."

Zevran smiled. "Very good. Now you may drink, but not a small sip. A good mouthful, and don't swallow it right away. Keep it in your mouth, take the time to really _taste_ it." As she followed his instructions, he saw a look of surprise cross her face. "Let it swirl around your tongue, feel it, let it linger..." His voice made her shiver, the rich, sensuous quality of it, as he went on, his hand softly playing with her hair. "Now, you may swallow. Feel it run down your throat, like a hot caress, like a lover's touch." She swallowed, her eyes closed, her face a picture of bliss. "Well, cara? What does it taste like?"

She turned her gaze on him, her eyes round with wonder. "It's hard to describe, Zev, so many flavours, so... soft and mellow and..."

He cocked his head. "Vanilla, perhaps?"

She shook her head. "Honey, rather. And a hint of hazelnuts. And at the end, just the faintest aroma of berries. Zev, this is amazing!"

She heard him chuckle again. "See, my beautiful? I knew you'd come to appreciate it."

Her face took on a mischievous expression as she pushed him back down into the pillows, moving over him with the glass in her hand. "You know, Zev, I wonder. This might taste even better if..." She carefully dipped her finger in the amber liquid and painted a figure eight on his chest, then bowed her head and slowly, gently, traced it with her tongue. Zevran had been about to protest the waste, but the sensation hit him like a warm wave. He couldn't help moaning and she grinned up at him. "It tastes even better combined with the flavour of your skin," she breathed, proceeding to carefully wet his nipples. Zevran arched up into her mouth. The feeling of her tongue, softly lapping up every tiny drop of moisture, made him shiver all over. He watched, his skin tingling with pleasure as she carefully drew patterns on his stomach, following all the time with her hot, wet mouth, working her way down to his crotch.

When she reached his pulsing erection, she looked up at him, a question in her eyes. "This might burn..." she said uncertainly, but he motioned for her to go on. With infinite care, she wet her fingers again in the glass, then moved them softly over his balls. He hissed with pleasure when her tongue and lips followed suit, licking, softly kneading, driving him almost insane with their gentle touch. She worked her way slowly up his shaft, until she reached the tip. He could see her pause for breath, then take a deep sip from the glass. Without swallowing, she bent down and took him firmly in her mouth. He gasped for air. The sensation of her swirling tongue, combined with the burning heat of the brandy, was enough to very nearly make him come undone. As he heard her laugh softly, he quickly wrapped his hand in her hair, bringing her head up to his, kissing her hard. Her lips tasted of him, and of the brandy, a blend so perfect it took his breath away.

He rolled over with her, taking the glass from her hands and pressing her down into the sheets. "Your turn, I think," he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. He began pouring a few drops onto her collarbone, softly nipping at it, eliciting a small cry of pleasure from her, but then he changed his mind. "Show me," he murmured. "Where do you want it to go?"

Her eyes widened, but she obediently began to draw a pattern on her breasts, circling her nipples, dipping deep into the valley between them. Zevran watched, entranced, then let his tongue follow the trail. Cat shuddered violently, her back arching up as they continued the game, all the way down across her stomach, all over her most sensitive spots. He groaned at the pleasure, unable to decide which was best, the taste of the brandy on her, the sight of her wet fingers travelling over her body, caressing, pointing out to him where she wanted to be touched, the slow burning of the alcohol on his tongue, the silkiness of her skin. When he reached her soft, wet folds, it became almost too much to bear. _Her_ taste, enhanced by the flavours of the brandy, her hips bucking up as she moaned and sighed, her small soft cries... He growled again, reaching for the glass once more.

Cat couldn't believe how good it felt. The brandy left a tingling trail on her skin, momentarily soothed by his tongue, before that in turn ignited her even further. She wanted it to go on forever, never to end, and at the same time the yearning inside her grew stronger and stronger. She felt herself burn for him, ache for him. Maker, she wanted him so badly. When he finally let go of her hips and moved up between her legs, the pressure of him against her wet core made her moan out loud. "Zevran..." He knew, he didn't need to be told, how ready she was for him, and he sheathed himself inside her without hesitation. For a moment they kept completely still, and she revelled in the sensation of him filling her to the brim, his hot torso against her body, his lips on hers. Then he began to move, but she was too impatient, too heated for his soft, patient strokes, so she pushed hard against his shoulders, making them both roll over.

She heard him laugh with delight as she straddled him, drawing him deeper inside her, her legs wrapped around his waist, her breasts pressed against his chest. Maker, but he felt so good, he smelled so good, he _tasted_ so good. Her hips began to move of their own accord, circling, rolling, bucking against him. He groaned and took hold of her, forcing her roughly into an even more frenzied rhythm, urging her on, overcome by his own need, his own desire. Their bodies seemed to melt into each other where they were joined, and she no longer knew where hers ended and his began. Everything was heat, lust, intense, mind-blowing pleasure, and they ground against each other, their movements getting jerkier as they slowly, inexorably lost control. Within moments of each other, they both cried out, their bodies caught in a violent spasm, pressing against each other so hard it almost hurt.

She felt him relax, pulling her closer to him, but she didn't let go of him, couldn't yet, knew that she needed him for a little longer, her body still crying out for more. His hands found her heat, and he softly touched her, caressed her, sending her over the edge again, making her tremble and moan in ecstasy, clinging hard to him, her lips silently forming his name.

When they finally pulled apart, he sighed a deep sated sigh and reached for the glass, taking a last sip and handing it over to her. She drained it, marvelling once more at the rich, complex taste. "Who would have thought the Arl capable of such a... thoughtful present?" she murmured, nestling into his arms, her head resting upon his chest, and she felt the soft rumble of his laugh as he held her tight.


End file.
